Rikk's Escape
by Gina Trujillo
Summary: Fan fic from the comic series, 'Tellos'. Set after the first saga. Just a really random bit in which Rikk runs for his life.


SPOILER WARNING! If you haven't read all of the Tellos comics (or at least the original 10 issues,) then this is going to give away some stuff. If you don't care, then read on anyway. Dun say I didn't warn you. Oh, and please submit a review.  
  
"New Beginning"  
  
By Gina Trujillo  
  
"There he goes! Down that alley! Don't let him get away!"  
  
The sound of many large boots hitting the brick streets followed behind a small man-fox as he ran. Ducking and weaving from street to alley and back again, circling about buildings in attempts to confuse his pursuers, taking cover in the shadows, even charging in through the back door of a tavern and exiting onto the street on the opposite side... No matter what he did, they were still there when he looked back: the same angry mob of royal guards who'd been after him for what seemed like hours, but was actually a matter of minutes.  
  
He had to loose them! It was imperative to life as he knew it! While he had a good head start, the guards were all much larger than he was, and he had to move as quickly as he could just to keep the distance between himself and them. However, he was tiring, and the guards were gaining on him. If he was going to escape, he was going to have to come up with something fast.  
  
An eruption of voices, laughter and music came suddenly, accompanied by a light that flooded part of the street up ahead. A group of men came pouring out of a tavern, all staggering and shouting. Deciding it would be the perfect cover, or at least buy him some time, he darted into the group, trying to slip inside before the door closed.  
  
No sooner had his boots hit the hardwood floor inside, but something caught his cape. He thought the door had slammed on it at first, but then it was tugged sharply. A gruff voice boomed out, "Quill! Lookie here! The lil' sneak's come back!"  
  
"He's got a lot of guts, Tonak."  
  
The most horrible sense of déjà vu fell over him as he felt his cape tighten about his neck and his feet start to leave the ground. A small choking sound came from within his throat.  
  
This was just what he needed.  
  
As if acting against his own will, he drew his short sword and twisted, lashing out at his very large attacker. The giant Luftholdian man screamed in pained surprise and dropped his captive to the ground. Without a thought, he darted to the back door of the tavern. A blade zipped though the air, missing only because he ducked to the side. He heard another cry of pain, likely because the sword had missed him and hit a bystander instead. It appeared that the blade's wielder, Quill, had had a bit too much mead to fight properly, which was the only fortunate event of the night, it seemed.  
  
Flying out of the tavern's back door, slamming into the opposite building's wall in his haste, the small fox kept running, cursing himself for not checking the name of the tavern before entering. If he'd realized it was "The Fox and Bird," he would never have gone inside!  
  
The sound of the back door opening again came, and he forced himself to run faster now, in spite of aching muscles. The street ahead flooded with royal guards. He skidded on the bricks, darting into the nearest alley and around a bend.  
  
Dead end. Appropriately named.  
  
The sound of angry voices came from behind him and he could hear their heavy footsteps. They would be upon him soon! Gods knew how many, and every one of them almost three times as big as he was.  
  
.three times as big.  
  
He spotted a small cranny at the bottom of one of the walls, right next to the street. Throwing himself to the ground, he stuck a hand into the hole to fell a small rush of air against his fur. There was a way out somewhere beyond it!  
  
Into the hole was dropped a canvas bag, and a small figure quickly followed in the drop, landing feet first and collapsing into a heap. It wouldn't have been much of a fall to a normal man, but to him, it was a bit more than he would have liked.  
  
Once again, inside the drainage tunnels beneath Lufthold. this was all an experience that was bad enough the first time, much less the second.  
  
Snatching up his treasure bag and slinging it back onto his shoulder, he headed for a small point of light up ahead, hoping and praying the floor wouldn't give under his feet, as this time, there would be no one to catch him before he would plummet to his doom.  
  
Tears stung the edges of his eyes at this thought, and he forced his mind back to the task at hand.  
  
The point of light turned out to be another small opening, much like the last, but lower down. He was glad for this, or else he would've had to have headed onward into the darkness, and he knew not how long it would be before he could find another way out. It took a lot of effort, but he finally managed to jump high enough to grab onto the ledge above and hoist himself up. It took more effort still to wiggle and squirm his way out of the small drainage duct.  
  
On the street once again, he ignored a few confused on-lookers and tried to figure out where he was, exactly. Once this was accomplished, he darted off down the road, knowing where he had to go from here.  
  
A few turns later, the edge of a cliff could be seen off at the end of the street. A single large, bobbing object was near this. With a smile at his sudden good fortune, he headed for it.  
  
Figures moved out of an alley up ahead. Taking in a sharp breath, he stumbled and skidded almost to a halt.  
  
The royal guard, it seemed, had found another tall Aritaur to be the leader of the guard, and there he stood, a towering menace to just about any race of creature. His muscles bulged as if they would explode, his heavy hoofs seemed as if they would crack the stone street. Head lowered, eyes narrow, curled horns glistening in the light of the street lanterns. He drew his sword, thrusting the tip forward. "Stand and fight!" He boomed out.  
  
There was no way the small thief could match swords with this brute, and he was painfully aware of this fact. The Aritaur charged at him, screaming out a war cry the likes of which the fox had never heard before. The huge blade came crashing downward, set to cleave him clear in two.  
  
With a yelp of fright, he ducked low and scrambled underneath the Aritaur's legs. The blade bounced on the stone street behind him. In shock to still be alive, he darted for the bobbing object at the cliff's edge once more.  
  
"Stop him!" The Aritaur's voice boomed as he spun and blindly lashed out at the fox, the blade's tip barely missing his back, "He's headed for an airboat! Stop him!"  
  
The sound of arrows lodging themselves in wood and bouncing off of stone came. Keeping his head low, the frightened man-fox charged onward. The arrows came faster and faster, and shafts were bouncing off of the bricks near his feet. He had to reach that airboat! He was almost there!  
  
He took a flying leap over the side of the cliff, knowing he would land on the ariship's deck. or, at least, banking on the hope that he would.  
  
A sharp pain shot through his ankle and he let out a cry. In the edge of his vision, he saw an arrow flying onward, narrowly missing the edge of his airboat's balloon.  
  
His body fell with a painful thud onto the oaken deck. Forcing himself to his knees, he drew his sword and chopped at the tie rope. Two ill-dealt strikes of the blade and the rope gave way. The ship bobbed off into the night amid a shower of blindly shot arrows, and was soon out of range of any fire.  
  
Laying upon the deck, his muscles screamed and breath heaved in his chest. His left boot was slashed and blood ran from a gash in the front of his ankle. An inch farther back, and it would have struck his tendon, and thus, left him paralyzed.  
  
He shut his eyes tightly, tears at the edges of them as he breathed out in a voice that was somehow high-pitched and gravely at the same time, "Gods! That was the most worstest thing that's ever happened to me!"  
  
Still, he was alive. Bleeding, shaken, tired, but still alive. Sitting up, he began rummaging through his bag in search of bandages as the airship floated off blindly towards the horizon.  
  
Once he'd stopped the bleeding of his leg, he slowly pulled himself up to a standing position and looked back at the accursed place known at Luftholde. The massive floating island tethered to the ground by its huge chains. He shook his fist at it in anger, "Oh yeah? Yeah?! Well, I hope you rot in Hin! Alla'ya! Ya hear me?! You'll never catch me!" His expression changed to an insane grin and he thrust his fist in the air more triumphantly, "I got away! You'll never catch me! Never! HAHAHA! See ya later, snacky!"  
  
He seated himself on the deck once more, pulling open his canvas treasure bag. From within it he plucked a single, very large ruby. Cupping it in his paw, it took up most of his palm. His eyes flashed with the usual kleptomanic greed and his toothy grin broadened.  
  
He'd escaped once again, and with the treasure he'd been seeking.  
  
Perhaps fortune was on his side, after all.  
  
. but it sure had a funny way of showing it.  
  
His eyes turned forward to the horizon. Where was he going? He didn't know, nor did he care. Just so long as he had his prize, and he was safe, a destination didn't matter in the least.  
  
"Hope you were watchin' that one, Hawke." He muttered, eyes turning skywards, "And hope you weren't cringing too bad."  
  
~ New Beginning ~  
  
By Gina Trujillo © Nov. 26, 2002. All characters © Todd Dezago and Mike Wieringo, 1999, Toy Box Productions, IMAGE comics. 


End file.
